


in sickness and in health

by sightstone (symmetrophobic)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: M/M, obligatory longzhu family fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 18:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11742894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/sightstone
Summary: Jongin's built a safety net for his heart reinforced with a vehement insistence that he doesn't love anyone, and probably never will. This is, of course, until Bumhyeon waltzes into his life, followed in succession by three happy, hungry mouths to feed, who like playing trampoline on said safety net.





	in sickness and in health

**Author's Note:**

> so if anyone watches lck post-match interviews you will probably have been acquainted at least once with various bright-eyed youthful members of longzhu insisting that their relatively more elderly parents are the best in the world!! to assist, here is a [family portrait](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DGjHGoRUQAAb_2M.jpg).
> 
> also here have a [parent interview](https://www.invenglobal.com/articles/2482/lz-pray-on-standing-at-the-top-of-the-lck-leaderboards-longzhu-is-still-a-bottom-tier-team) where they actually call themselves the parents of longzhu (??? ikr), and [a solo pray interview](https://www.invenglobal.com/articles/2627/lz-pray-on-old-rox-i-told-kuro-i-wanted-to-see-him-in-the-finals-but-he-was-like-go-samsung) where pray insists he's not close to the kids despite [this](https://static.invenglobal.com/upload/image/2017/07/20/i1500564745703996.jpeg) existing.
> 
> yes.
> 
> thank you once more to ray for beta!! hellship is incoming!!

The only occasion Kim Jongin had ever spent in the extended company of a child (before Bumhyeon actually became a Thing in his life, of course) was when he was 11, and had to spend an afternoon at his aunt’s house.

His mother was Networking at some socialite event, and the sprightly ahjumma they’d hired to take care of him and their sprawling property had to go home for a small family emergency. So he’d been dropped off, surly because he’d been forced into nice clothes and armed with his Nintendo DS, to spend five hours sulking with his Pokemon in a corner of the house.

Then a tiny girl, wearing a pink dress (in the house!! Girls are so weird, yuck) had walked past, a cooking set in her hands, little bead bracelets clacking around her wrist, all while staring at him curiously. This process had repeated several times, until he’d almost completely retreated behind his DS. Then he’d felt a small tap on his knee, and looked over the top of his console in mild terror to see her standing there, shyly offering him a plastic teacup.

(All in all, it wasn’t that bad. As an 11-year-old boy tea parties were most certainly Uncool, but she gave him real hot chocolate that tasted good, and his mother did actually pay attention to him for a whole twenty minutes on the way home for behaving well, so there was that.)

So when Bumhyeon blinks up at him under starlight to ask if they’ll be adopting in the future, he shrugs agreeably, relatively calmed by the vague memory of a tiny sweet girl and tea parties.

*

Somewhere out there, a deity hates him, probably.

*

“Why boys?” Jongin mumbles helplessly to the stove. The stove, ever impassive, boiling the pot of congee, yields no answers. “Why _boys_?”

Dongha stumbles into the kitchen, a trail of paper and crayons in his wake. “Daddy! Woochan’s awake!”

“Pick those up,” Jongin orders as he turns the stove off, already on the way out (thank goodness Bumhyeon’s taught Dongha well, at least) and he hears the eldest boy messily cleaning up (if that phrase exists) as he follows the sound of crying to the kids’ bedroom. “I’ll go get your brother.”

Woochan is standing shakily in the corner of his crib closest to the door, holding onto the rails and bawling in the semi-darkness. He seems relatively disappointed when the lights come on and it’s only Jongin, his second favourite appa, but he takes it anyway, raising an arm and sniffing pitifully when he’s picked up.

“It’s like we’re neglecting you, or something,” Jongin mumbles, walking out of the room to see Dongha absent-mindedly making another mess of toy trucks in a corner of the living room. “Your food’s almost ready. Dongha-yah, get ready to come to the table!”

There’s a song Bumhyeon always sings, Jongin knows, some sort of clean-up song he’d learnt from the childcare he works at that triggers some primal tidying instinct in Dongha that gets him to clean up all his toys and follow his Papa to wherever he’s supposed to go. But Jongin doesn’t know the song, and even if he did, he sure as hell wasn’t going to sing it.

He pokes the cooling porridge on the stove, sniffing, and Woochan, still perched on his arm, stares at it with mild interest. “You know what day it is today, right, Channie?”

Woochan blinks at Jongin. He probably recognises his nickname but doesn’t know what on earth Jongin’s asking him. Maybe. _Comprehension precedes production_ , as Bumhyeon always nags. _Stop swearing in front of the kids._

“It’s been four years since your papa and I got this house,” Jongin continues, now ladling porridge into two Robocar Poli bowls. “How old is your brother now?”

Woochan loses interest in their conversation and starts salivating at the porridge.

“Your brother is 4. You’re almost 1,” Jongin inserts two little spoons, adding training chopsticks to one bowl. “You’ll help me make a surprise for Papa, right?”

Dongha whirlwinds into the kitchen with a bunch of little toy trucks. “Is it Papa’s birthday?”

“It’s our _anniversary,_ Dongha,” Jongin walks out carrying both bowls, spoons, chopsticks and Woochan. It’s a feat to be admired.

“What does that mean?” Dongha climbs onto the table, dumping his trucks in front of him.

“ _One truck_ at the table,” Jongin says, setting the bowls down- Woochan is already squirming, reaching for the porridge and whining. Dongha frowns at his trucks, selecting the firetruck after some difficulty and racing back to his toy box to dump the rest in.

“What does it mean?” he repeats once he’s back, clambering onto the chair as Jongin struggles to fasten Woochan in his high chair. “Is this porridge? Is there kimchi? I want the little meat cakes Papa always makes!”

“It means it’s been four years since we promised to love each other forever,” Jongin grunts, preoccupied. Woochan kicks and whines, a tantrum looming in the distance.

Dongha frowns, trying to compute this. “But Papa- Papa tells you he loves you! Every morning!”

Jongin pauses with a spoon of porridge halfway to Woochan’s mouth. “Yeah,” he says gently. “He does.”

Woochan has his mouth open expectantly, tiny tongue poking out, staring with mild offense up at Jongin.

Dinner proceeds smoothly, and both children decimate their bowls of porridge, Dongha actually breaking into the kitchen for a second helping (and to find the kimchi).

Half an hour later finds Woochan having a food coma on the couch while his older brother creates a new truck haven beside the DVD rack, and Jongin reappears in the room, carrying a piece of paper and a colourful box.

“Boys,” he says, sounding vaguely apathetic (but mostly tired), spreading a bunch of newspapers on the floor. Immediately, Dongha sprints over, slipping on a newspaper and almost landing flat on his back, if not for Jongin absent-mindedly extending an arm to catch him. “What did Papa say about running in the house, Dongha.”

Dongha’s giggling breathlessly, sliding into a jelly heap on the floor. “Are we doing arts and crafts, Daddy!”

Woochan’s rolled onto his front, now, inspecting them carefully from the couch.

“We’re going to make a card for Papa now,” Jongin opens the box of crayons and markers. “Look, see, I wrote here, _Happy Anniversary,_ ” he lifts the card to show them the words in black written on the paper. “And you and Woochan can draw what you want for Papa around it.”

“He’s busy now, right?” Dongha’s already rummaging through the box, looking for his favourite blue crayon. “He’s working?”

“Yep, meeting someone important,” Jongin turns up his nose slightly. “A _crucial client_. Some _big shot magazine editor_ who’s interested in his home bakery business and could be responsible for _its next big break_.”

“What’s a _big shot_ , Daddy?”

“Don’t make the whole card blue, Dongha.”

“Is it a really big injection?”

“It’s just a way of saying someone’s really important. Or something,” Jongin says dismissively, standing to go pick up Woochan and carry him over. There’s a lull, as Jongin tries to simultaneously give Woochan a marker and not let him eat it, which proves to be futile after three tries.

“What are you drawing there?” he says, disgruntled, glancing over as he wipes a saliva-covered marker cap on his shirt.

“This is me,” Dongha says, smacking himself in the chest as he points to a small smiley blue stick figure holding a blue blob, which Jongin realises later is probably a truck. “This one is Papa! He’s in green, ‘cause that’s his favourite colour,” he points to a slightly taller stick figure, holding a birthday cake (the only type of cake Dongha knows how to draw). “This one is Channie,” a tiny grey oval with a smiley face and three hairs, “and this is you,” a black stick figure, towering over the rest of them, holding the green stick figure’s hand.

“Am I really that fat?”

“Yes!”

Jongin snorts as Woochan yawns, bored, beginning to crawl away. “Okay, boys,” he scoops up Woochan with one hand, ignoring his whine and setting the baby on his lap, as Dongha listens eagerly. “This is what we’re going to do. Once Papa comes home, we’re going to come out of Dongha’s bedroom and say “ _s_ _urprise!”_ real loud, okay? Then Dongha, you give him this card, and I’ll give him the present.”

“What’s the present?” Dongha gets distracted. “Do I have a present too?”

“On your birthday we’ll give you a present,” Jongin says, waving absently. “Did you hear me, Dongha-yah? You have to shout _surprise_ , okay? Then tomorrow, Dongha, _listen_ , we’ll go eat something nice.”

“Daddy, Channie’s eating a crayon!”

“ _Channie_ , give me that, that’s gross.”

*

The house is semi-dark (not totally dark, because Dongha gets scared when Jongin turns off all the lights) when an assortment of keys and metallic keychains jangle loudly in the lock. There’s a moment’s pause, before the door squeaks open, and someone steps in, toeing off his shoes and placing them neatly on the rickety plastic rack by the door.

“Papa!” Dongha half-dancing, half sprinting towards the door, and Bumhyeon’s face breaks into the biggest smile as the little boy throws himself into his arms.

“Hello, why aren’t you in bed yet, young man,” the various plastic and paper bags rustle as the man sets them down to properly hug Dongha.

That’s when the four-year-old jerks up like he’s been electrocuted. “I forgot!”

He races back towards the room, pushing open the door as he goes and immediately colliding with something.

And Jongin emerges from the kids’ bedroom looking rather windswept and annoyed, carrying Dongha in one arm while Woochan sleeps soundly in the hipseat carrier buckled around his waist.

“Surprise!” Dongha blasts out across the living room, waving a piece of paper, and Woochan snorts snappishly in his sleep.

“He was supposed to say that and give you the card when you got home,” Jongin explains grumpily, as Dongha struggles down, racing across the room again to thrust the card into Bumhyeon’s hand.

“Wow, that’s beautiful,” Bumhyeon spreads the card out, smiling. “You did this all by yourself?”

“Yeah! Daddy helped me spell this word, and this word.”

“I see, is that why it’s still spelled wrongly?”

“ _Bumhyeon-ah_.”

“Kidding,” Bumhyeon grins. “Dongha-yah, your handwriting’s getting better, but you have to keep practising every day, okay?”

“Okay!”

“What else did you boys do together?”

“Channie ate a marker!”

“He ate a _what_ -…”

“He _almost_ ate it,” Jongin says hastily. “Don’t get me in trouble, Dongha. Anyway it’s about time you and your brother went to bed.”

“Aww, just five more minutes?”

“It’s an hour past your bedtime,” Jongin says blandly, bending down to sling the little boy over his shoulder and walk back to the room. “Bedtime. Or you’re going to get grumpy when you have to go to preschool tomorrow.”

Dongha sticks his tongue out at the floor as he’s carried away.

“Sleep well, I’ll come check on you once I’m showered,” Bumhyeon follows, pressing a kiss on Dongha’s forehead, before tiptoeing to put one on Jongin’s cheek too. Woochan lifts his head off Jongin’s shoulder expectantly, hair sticking up on one side, and Bumhyeon laughs, before giving him a kiss too.

*

It’s almost midnight by the time Jongin wanders out of the kids’ bedroom with Bumhyeon (he’d fallen asleep and needed to be awoken), Dongha and Woochan both fast asleep.

“How was the meeting,” Jongin yawns, settling at the kitchen table and perking up at the bowl of stew Bumhyeon had warmed up for him. “Did you get it?”

The other man sits across him, sipping from a cup of tea, looking pleased. “Yep. Sealed it before the dinner was even over.”

“That’s great,” Jongin grins.

“I’ve already got three calls for major orders starting two weeks later,” Bumhyeon’s smile widens. “This is going to be good for our family, hyung, and with you getting promoted last month, we’ll definitely have enough for the kids when they start schooling.”

“Yeah,” Jongin shifts, trying to remember why it feels like he’s sitting on something prickly, before he remembers. “Right, I uh, I got you this,” he says, carefully taking the slightly squashed package wrapped in grey crepe paper from his back pocket. “For our anniversary.”

Bumhyeon raises a brow, taking the package. “Wow, really? This time?”

“It has double the effectiveness if you’d stop harping on about that.”

“Hey, I haven’t mentioned all week about how you casually went and forgot our anniversary for the past, I don’t know, three years-…”

“Okay okay just open the present, will you?” Jongin mumbles. But Bumhyeon’s already eased the tape off the paper, and it falls open to reveal a thin golden chain, wrapped around a tiny faux velvet cushion.

“You’re always talking about how you have to take out your ring whenever you’re baking, so I thought,” Jongin shrugs, feeling a little dumb about himself. “You could. Wear it around your neck instead, you know.”

“Wow, that’s,” Bumhyeon blinks, taking out the chain, watching the yellow colour glint sluggishly in the dim light. “That’s amazing. I was just thinking about getting a string or something, wow, hyung.”

Jongin half-shrugs, half-smiles, also quietly making a mental note to thank Jaewan for the idea tomorrow morning.

“This, uhm, this is yours,” Bumhyeon quickly sets the chain down, rummaging in his bag for a moment, before taking out a small, smooth box. Jongin’s good feeling disappears, and he pales, slightly.

“That uh, that looks expensive,” he tries to say it casually- between the both of them, it’s always been Bumhyeon who splashes out occasionally, especially when it comes to their kids. Jongin’s always been the miser. “Do we have the money for that?”

“I got it, ah, on a big discount,” Bumhyeon says, slightly embarrassed. “Sungmin just got promoted in his job, luxury retail and all, and he hinted he could pull some strings, and I thought, you know, when have any of us ever been able to wear something nice?”

“Then you should wear it,” Jongin argues, eyes widening as Bumhyeon opens the box, and the watch resting inside seems to _glitter._ It’s possible (even for him), though, to tell that it’s not one of those ridiculously expensive ones, slightly more on the practical side, but still enough to turn heads at the office and get him into some pretty nice places.

“I chose it for _you_ ,” Bumhyeon says with a pout, taking Jongin’s wrist from across the table and sliding the watch on, nimble fingers snapping the clasp back neatly, and it’s a perfect fit immediately. “You like it, don’t you?”

“I feel pretentious already,” the older man says drily, inspecting the watch, and he can’t deny it, _it suits him really well._ “Maybe my dad will accept me back in the family if he sees me walking around with this.”

“We’re working on it, right?” Bumhyeon hasn’t let go of his hand, voice slightly pleading. “Don’t joke about it like that.”

“Yeah,” Jongin mumbles, taking off the watch and tucking it back into the box- it’s been a while since he’s seen something as nice as this.

“Oh, oh, there’s ah, something else,” Bumhyeon hesitates, one hand in his bag.

“A part two?” the other man chuckles, glad to be off the subject.

“You could say that?” Bumhyeon says, smiling hopefully, sheepishly cute in that way he usually is when he’s about to do something he knows Jongin won’t like. “It’s really expensive too.”

“Even more than a watch? Maybe a new car, or a title deed to a condominium?” Jongin hazards, feeling relatively calmed when Bumhyeon laughs.

“It’ll make us much happier than a condo?” The younger man says with a hesitant smile. All of Jongin’s calm feelings disappear.

Slowly, he puts his head in his hands. “Bumhyeon-ah. You didn’t- not another one.”

“Hyung, you have to give it a _chance_ , don’t write it off just like that,” Bumhyeon pleads. “Look, here’s the file,” he pulls out a manila folder, familiar, by this time, and Jongin’s stomach seems to sink. “Just look it through.”

“We can’t _afford_ another one-…”

“With your promotion, and this step forward for my baking deal, we’ll manage. _Please_ at least just consider it?”

Jongin squeezes his eyes shut, unwilling to look up because he knows Bumhyeon is giving him _that face_ and he won’t ever be able to say no if he sees it.

“At least tell me it’s a girl this time,” he says in a rush of breath, resistance already crumbling.

“Uhm,” Bumhyeon says tentatively, and Jongin knows he’s doomed. “He’s as sweet as a girl?”

*

“This isn’t a yes,” Jongin says, trying to sound sufficiently threatening. It’s difficult to act authoritative when there’s a baby boy fast asleep in his arms, drooling onto his chest, one tiny fist wound tight around the material of his sweater.

It’s been three months since Bumhyeon first handed the file over, and no amount of evasion or reasoning could save Jongin from this moment- stuck in a sunny little room full of toys and simple word charts, seated on a cushioned maroon bench with the same manila file next to him and the subject of said file dozing in the crook of his right arm.

“Okay,” Bumhyeon shrugs, knowing he’s already won and doing his best not to act smug about it. There’s a pause, as Jongin tries not to get attached to the sleeping ball of small human in his arms. He should never have agreed to this. He should’ve specified that when they adopted Woochan, that would be the end.

Boseong shifts in his arms and yawns, a tiny, toothless yawn, feather-soft hair tickling the bare skin of Jongin’s arms where his sweater sleeves have been pushed up as he wriggles a little, before settling comfortably again and going straight back to sleep.

“I’m a goner,” Jongin grumbles quietly.

“We should bring the other kids to see him,” Bumhyeon suggests amiably. “With Channie walking now and Dongha all grown up- they’ve been wanting to see the baby for weeks now.”

Jongin takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand that isn’t carrying an armful of cute slumbering financial burden. “Bumhyeon. This,” he lowers his voice as Boseong stirs, brow creasing in his sleep. “He’s the last one. Okay. Ever. We’re not doing this again.”

Bumhyeon’s smile widens, sliding over to Jongin’s side and resting his head on the older man’s shoulder. “Thanks, hyung.”

The warmth against his side calms Jongin, relatively, and he glances down doubtfully at the baby, watching as Bumhyeon reaches over, running the back of his finger gently down a soft porcelain cheek, evoking a faint, endogenous smile on Boseong’s face.

“He’s _beautiful_ , isn’t he.”

“Yeah?” Jongin mumbles fondly. “Something tells me he’ll be the most troublesome one, just give him a couple of years.”

“That’s for a couple more years to decide,” Bumhyeon presses a kiss on the side of Jongin’s lips, grinning. “Let’s enjoy now for a little longer.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> so this could be seen as part of [this series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/750399) at a stretch (but not really? sobbles)? aka there will probably be more when it kills me sigh
> 
> comments are truly appreciated, if you wanna cry about longzhu family hmu too \o/ thank you and hope you have a great day~


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